


Burning Flowers

by AParticularlyLargeBear



Category: Senjou no Valkyria | Valkyria Chronicles
Genre: Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4159695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AParticularlyLargeBear/pseuds/AParticularlyLargeBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane Turner was a florist. Not the most glamorous job, but her passion, her calling. EWII changed that, and changed her, too. When you lose all that you have, sometimes all that's left is sharing the pain with those that caused it.</p><p>A look at the events of EWII through the eyes of a regular member of Squad 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Flowers

“Have a nice day!” 

There was a gentle _tinkle_ from the bell above the door as a customer left the florist, carrying a handful of small flowers.

The woman behind the store’s counter smiled fondly at the closed door, and then stifled a yawn. Eesh, already getting tired and it was only mid-afternoon. She supposed that was what she got for starting work so early, and there wasn’t really anyone to blame but herself for that. The sign outside did say _Jane’s_ , after all, and the store was a one-woman operation. Jane had considered hiring help more than once, but on the whole, she was happiest when she was working. Besides, she liked the quiet, liked the peacefulness that came with being surrounded with nothing but the aroma of many flowers.

It wasn’t as if there was much scope for expanding the business anyway. Jane had been running the florist since she was eighteen, and by now she’d developed a good understanding of the demand for her services. Enough people in Bruhl wanted flowers regularly enough for Jane to keep the store afloat, and that was good enough for her. The way things were now, Jane did decent business and had time to cultivate a lot of what she sold for herself. An employee would mean _management_. Unpleasant.

Although, the news of a war between the Empire and Gallia was a sobering prospect. A lot of folks had been leaving Bruhl lately, as close to the border as it was, and Jane was torn. She’d only been a child during the first Europan war, and yet there were still some memories that had stuck with here through all those years. Jane didn’t want to experience any of that again, and her older brother’s family were in Randgriz. He wouldn’t begrudge her a spare room. However, she’d put down roots her, she’d- well, she’d made something of her own. She’d proven that she could be a success. Jane wasn’t sure she could bring herself to just abandon her store, not after almost ten years of it being the centre of her world.

Logic suggested that the store would still be there when the war ended and Jane returned to Bruhl, that leaving would only be temporary, and remaining would just expose her to needless danger. Emotion clung fitfully to the concern that if she left, she’d somehow never see the town again. It was difficult to argue in the face of a persistent anxiety like that one, even when Jane reminded herself that her store was a _building_ , and anything that happened whilst she was away would therefore hardly be something she could have prevented.

Unfortunately, thinking of it in that way just caused her stomach to tie itself in knots, sending her fears spiralling into an ever descending pit of impossible misfortune.

  _Tinkle._

Jane looked up from the counter, snapping herself out of it. Good thing, too, considering her thoughts had reached ‘Bruhl being devoured by a gigantic reptile’ levels of crazy.

“Hey, Miss Turner!”

Jane couldn’t stop her eyebrows from rising in surprise. Next door neighbour’s fifteen year old kid Greg wasn’t someone she had seen in her shop before, nor expected to. A sandy-haired dynamo on legs, he had more zip than he knew how to deal with, and more than once had gone crashing into the display baskets outside of the store. She would have been mad if he wasn’t always so utterly mortified about it, blushing a brilliant crimson and stammering out a string of apologies. After the third such incident, he’d began giving the place a wide berth, so seeing him actually enter was odd.

“Afternoon, Greg. Did your mother send you?”

Greg looked down at his toes, shuffling his feet. “Ah um, no, Miss Turner. Actually, uhm, I was, um… that is… I was h-hoping to buy some flowers.”

Jane stared, and then smiled broadly. Now here was one for the books. “Well, feel free to look around,” she paused, waiting for Greg to move. The teen didn’t budge, remaining in the doorway, a conflicted expression on his face as his eyes flitted from stand to stand. “I can help, if you aren’t sure what kind you want.”

Relief came crashing down across Greg’s features. “O-oh! Yeah! That’d- that’d be great, Miss Turner. I um… I really don’t know anything about flowers.”

“A good place to start is who they’re for. What’s the occasion?”

Greg blushed so hard Jane found herself reflexively checking to see if he’d knocked anything over. “They… I- um… I... w-well they’re… t-there’s a friend. I w-wanted to, um, make her-make _them_ feel better.”

Oh. Ohhh. Teenager, nervous as you like, trying to buy flowers, heavily concerned about which would be right; Jane thought she knew what was up, here. Well now, it seemed that she had a future romantic on her hands here.

“If you’re not sure what flowers they like, then it’s better to go for something simple that still looks nice. It’s about the gesture, right?”

Greg nodded. “She- they’re sad because of um, because of evacuating. She doesn’t, um, doesn’t want to leave Bruhl.”

Jane barely kept herself from wincing. Just when she’d found a distraction to get that worry out of her head…

Wasn’t the kid’s fault, though. “Definitely something simple,” she pushed past her hesitance. “Maybe something that grows outside of town? Then that carries the meaning you’re looking for.

Greg’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! That’s a great idea, Miss Turner! You’re the best!”

And now warmth was rushing to Jane’s cheeks. It was always incredibly gratifying to see how much her flowers could mean to people. Made the slow days and the hard work worth it. This feeling of pride and second hand contentment was the root of her problems with leaving Bruhl. It had grown to be her joy, her reason for motivating herself to man the store all day and keep a smile on her face for each and every customer. Where would she be, without the shop?

Nope. Nope. Not thinking about that.

“All right. Let me help you pick out a few…”

The next twenty minutes passed in a happy little blur. Beyond his initial nervousness, Greg steadily grew more enthusiastic about the prospect of putting together a bouquet, and Jane, naturally, had always enjoyed assembling and styling a flower bunch.

Soon enough, Greg, grinning from ear to ear, held the bouquet tightly in his arms. Jane was smiling just looking at him. He was definitely going to cause more than a little swooning with an attitude like this. Jane named a price a little lower than usual – for reminding her of why she loved her job – and then watched Greg go, a spring in his step and pleased as punch. Hopefully it would go well with his friend. Although after a moment Jane reflected soberly that she wasn’t likely to find out anytime soon, if Greg was evacuating soon.

Jane sighed. Damn it all. She needed to get out of here for a while, clear her head. And not just because pollen was hanging heavily in the air.

Stepping out from behind the counter, Jane headed for the door, pausing to turn around one of the signs hanging on the back from ‘Welcome to Jane’s!’ to ‘Out for lunch!’, before moving outside, taking a deep breath. Sometimes the scent of flowers could get to be a little _too_ much when you were surrounded by it for hours on end, days on weeks.

Jane yawned, stretched. The sun was shining, barely a cloud in the sky. It just didn’t seem right that the weather could be this nice when Gallia was at war. It felt as if everything should be stopping and taking notice. Just made it harder to believe that the Imperials were truly invading them. They’d done it once, though, and Jane wasn’t naïve enough to believe that they wouldn’t again.

Perhaps she’d feel better for something to eat. That café on the corner would be open, right?

As Jane walked, she reached up, pulling her long dark hair out of its tail. She felt more professional with it tied up, just a little point of pride. Though, if she really cared _that_ much, she wouldn’t have had the pair of rings in her right ear. Feh. Wasn’t as if anyone in Bruhl cared. She really needed to be less hung up over what her family thought of her job. Sure, her parents acted proud enough that their eldest daughter was a businesswoman, but the moment Jane actually explained what it was she did, they both took on those condescending smiles, acting like they were indulging her.

And they wondered why she never visited.

A high pitched whistling broke across the sound of Jane’s footfalls on the cobbled street, and a frown creased her brow. What was that? Some kind of bird? No, it couldn’t be, too much of a whine, too much-

Her eyes widened. Oh no. She’d heard that before.

Jane turned just in time to see an artillery shell obliterate her home and livelihood.

She stood stock still and stared, the heat from the explosion washing over her body, close enough for the shockwave to make her rock back on her heels.

The storefront was gone. The building burned, blackened beams wreathed in flames. Flowers crisped, shrivelling into darkened corpses of blooms. The roof had caved in, collapsing in on the interior, everything she owned up in smoke. Shattered glass littered the street from the blown out windows.

Something trickled down Jane’s face. It took her a moment to realise that she was bleeding. Stray shrapnel must have caught her.

She couldn’t feel the wound, was finding it difficult to care at all.

Her… her store.

No, this wasn’t- this couldn’t be…

“Hey! You gotta get off the street! It’s too dangerous!”

Jane looked around in a dreamlike daze. Standing a little ways off was a deeply-tanned man wearing the helmet and tunic of the town watch. Well, man was maybe pushing it; his features were youthful. He couldn’t be out of his teens. He was carrying a rifle, raised and readied, though not pointed at her.

“…What?” she couldn’t drag words from her mouth. She’d wake up in a moment, right? This was just some kind of horrible nightmare.

“Imperials are attacking! C’mon! This way!”

The watchman raced past, and after a long moment, Jane forced her legs to move, dragged her eyes away from the blown-out wreckage of her life and began stumbling after him. Her body wasn’t cooperating, balance shaky, equilibrium off as tremors ran through her. Now that the ringing in her ears was subsiding, Jane could hear shouting and yelling, the crack of gunshots, explosions as more shells dropped onto Bruhl.

“Wait, where are we going?”

She forced the question out. There was an unsettling fizzing in the pit of her stomach, which had seemingly dropped to somewhere around her boots. It churned away, distilling sadness, pain and perhaps more.

Her companion barely even paused, just calling over his shoulder. “Town gate! We’re evacuating!"

Evacuating? Leaving? Letting the Imperials _win_ by running away? Surely there was something that could be done. Surely this couldn’t be how Jane left Bruhl behind.

It couldn’t... 

Ahead was the gate of Bruhl. Nearby, a group of watchmen were frantically stacking up sandbags into makeshift cover. A steady stream of people were fleeing through the gate, many nursing injuries or struggling even to walk. A cold finger of ice traced down Jane’s spine. Seeing her home like this, people she’d met on a daily basis running for their lives…

“Noce! You’re here!” one of the watchmen called to Jane’s companion.

He – Noce, she supposed, hurried over. “Any word from the rest of town?”

“Miss Melchiott took out an Imperial officer over at Mill Plaza, but she says that they have tanks!”

Noce’s eyes widened for a moment. “Alicia did what-“ he cut himself off. “She’s safe though, right? Where is she now?”

“Last I heard she was pulling everyone back to defend the gate. She should be here any minute.”

Noce bit his lip, and then glanced over his shoulder to Jane, seemingly remembering she was there. “We’re gonna be up to our eyes in Imperials any second now. You should get out, ma’am.”

Jane’s heart hammered. They’d just taken everything from her. Everything. Noce meant well, but what was the _point_ of running away? Flee to Randgriz with her tail between her legs, with nothing to come home to?

“Give me a gun,” she told him.

Noce started. “A gun? No, ma’am, I can’t let you- I’m town watch, this is our job!”

“I had training same as you, Noce. Let me put a bullet in them for Bruhl.”

“Noce! That’s the last of the townspeople! We have to close the gate!”

He looked at her, expression conflicted, then sighed, nodded. “Shut it,” Noce paused, looked at Jane again, and then grabbed a rifle from next to the sandbags and handed it to her. “I won’t say no to somebody that wants to help, miss…”

“Jane. It’s Jane,” she replied, taking the gun, hefting it to get a feel for the weight. It had been a long time since her mandatory military training, and there was a moment or two where she couldn’t quite remember what to do. Then it clicked, and Jane was readying the firing mechanism, disengaging the safety.

“All right, Jane. Stay in cover, make your shots count, and don’t be a hero. If they come rolling in with a tank there really isn’t much we can do about it.”

“Understood,” her hands had stopped trembling since they started gripping the rifle. Focused, now, on something more than her sorrow.

“Noce! It’s Miss Melchiott!”

The relief was plain on Noce’s face as a young woman with brown hair tied up in a headscarf came dashing towards the ramshackle defensive position, trailed by two more watchmen. Jane thought she recognised her. Wasn’t that the baker’s apprentice?

“Alicia! You’re all right!” Noce was clearly struggling not to break into a huge grin.

The girl – Alicia, didn’t seem to notice. “Just barely. There’s a tank on its way, and a whole squad of soldiers with it.”

“What’s the plan?” Noce seemed to hang on her word. Was she in charge, here, or was there something else going on?

“We need to hold the gate and buy time for the townspeople to get away. We have…” Alicia glanced around the group, and though her eyes stopped on Jane for a moment, they moved on. “Nine. If we’re careful, we should be able to handle the footsoldiers,” she hesitated, just for an instant, then raised a fist. “Let’s do this for Bruhl, everyone!”

A ragged cheer went off, only to be instantly cut off by the sharp retort of a gun going off.

“Here they come!”

“Defensive positions!” shouted Noce.

Jane found herself ducking behind the sandbags next to Alicia, raising the rifle and looking down the sights.

Several Imperial soldiers were moving down the street, the rumbling mechanical squeaking of a tank’s treads not far behind.

Jane’s jaw tightened as she regarded that pale grey armour, those heavy-duty helmets, the sleek and polished weapons…

Face to face, or near enough, now. Not an artillery shell from nowhere, an unseen threat that could not be defended against or stopped. They were here, they were tangible.

And the sight stoked embers of grief and anguish into white hot rage.

“Get ready to die, Imps,” Jane snarled under her breath, and pulled the trigger.

The recoil jerked the butt of the rifle back into her shoulder, but the brief burst of pain was nothing compared to the surge of satisfaction she felt as her bullet caught an Imperial high in the chest and sent him crashing to the ground.

“Nice shot!” called Alicia, firing off a round of her own. “Let’s keep it up!”

For a few seconds, Jane and the others managed to keep up a consistent volley of fire, forcing the Imperials to dive for cover or get ripped to pieces. However, as reloads were required, as the shooting became more ragged, the Imperials began returning fire, and their soldiers were better equipped than a gaggle of watchmen.

Fully automatic gunfire tore across their lines. Jane ducked behind the sandbags, but still felt the impact of the bullets burying themselves in the scant sanctuary offered by the barrier.

One of her fellows was slower to dodge. There was a horrible, hollow noise, followed by desperate gurgling. The man collapsed, clutching his throat as gouts of blood poured between his fingers, choking and gasping to breathe through the hole that had been blasted through his windpipe.

“No!” there was a flurry of motion from nearby. Another of the watchmen broke cover from across the street, dashing towards his dying comrade.

“Francis! You can’t-“ Noce barely had time to shout out the warning before a brutal crossfire intercepted the running man. He spun once, then fell onto the cobbles with a thud, motionless.

“Hold position! Hold position!” Alicia yelled, voice rising an octave. “Everybody stay calm!”

Jane lined up the sights of her gun again and snapped off another shot. An Imperial hurriedly ducked back behind some debris. She scowled, hunted for another target, fired again. A soldier went down, hands clasped to their knee.

Not good enough.

Jane couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this angry. No, anger was too weak a word. She was furious, the flames of her rage building up within into an all-consuming inferno, overflowing into her weapon, as if every bullet was propelled by sheer force of will.

How dare they? How _dare_ they? What gave them the right to attack her town, kill her friends, destroy the dearest thing to her heart? Jane had poured heart and soul into that store for almost a decade, and now it was rubble because some Imp _bastard_ pushed a button.

The mechanical noises grew louder, and trundling into view was a twenty-five ton, ragnite-fuelled armoured vehicle. The Imperials’ tank.

“Well. That’s bad,” murmured Noce.

There was a _thoom_. Jane squeezed shut her eyes, expecting the shell to come crashing against their defences.

Wood splintered as an explosion resounded across the street.

Jane looked around. The tank was targeting the gate, had just blown a hole right through the doors.

“They’re going to roll right over us!” the surviving watchmen were wavering.

“If we move, the townspeople will die!” snapped Alicia. “Stay strong!”

“I… yes Miss Melchiott!”

“On my mark…” called Noce. “FIRE!”

They resumed firing upon the Imperial soldiers, though the longer this went on, the more Jane’s reservations grew. Keeping the foot soldiers at bay was doable, but their gunfire simply plinked off the tank’s armour, and it was only a matter of time before it turned its attention from the gate to them-

“GET DOWN!” Noce roared as the tank’s turret turned.

_Thoom._

The barricaded position across the road – along with the three men defending it – went up in smoke and flames.

“Alicia! We- we have to fall back! We’ve done as much as we can!” Noce’s composure had cracked.

Alicia looked pained, but then after a moment, nodded.

Then, another sound.

Jane’s heart stopped.

The rolling of more tank treads.

They had another one?

There had to be some way to stop the thing, delay it, buy them some time…

“Alicia, grenade,” Jane murmured.

“You can’t take on a tank with grenades, Jane!” Noce broke in. “That’s suicide!”

 “Don’t need to destroy it. Just need to slow it down. I’m going after the treads.”

Alicia exchanged glances with Noce, and without a word, she passed a pair of grenades across. Jane nodded.

And took a deep breath.

Vaulting over the sandbags, Jane moved at a dead sprint towards the tank, straining every fibre to move as quickly as possible, to get close before the machine-gun operator noticed what she was doing.

Not enough, though, not _fast enough_. Dammit, dammit. They were going to win, they were going to _beat_ her, and she couldn’t let that happen, not before she showed them just a fraction of the pain they’d inflicted upon her.

The gun swivelled towards her, priming to fire-

And the entire tank exploded.

Jane skidded to a halt, jaw dropping. What the- what just happened!?

“TANK! IT’S A GALLIAN TANK!”

A… what?

Bulldozing through the wreckage came a tank painted in blue. Gallian army colours. As it drew to a halt, the hatch popped open, revealing a young man who certainly wasn’t attired for combat – jacket and shirt, though he _was_ wearing a radio headset.

“Welkin!” Alicia came dashing up behind Jane. “You have a tank?”

“It’s the Edelweiss. It belonged to my father.”

“Well, you sure saved us, Welkin.”

“Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

The conversation faded away into a dull buzz.

Jane’s shoulders slumped, her anger burnt out. No, not just her anger. _She_ felt charred, scorched into nothingness.

Maybe she would have chosen to leave Bruhl of her own volition, but now? Now she was being forced out. Now she was departing because there wasn’t anything left for her here.

“I’ll kill them,” she whispered.

“I’ll kill every last one of those _fucking_ Imps.”


End file.
